


The Water or the Scenery

by ashesandhoney



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, Tiny Magical Towns, florist/tattoo artist au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesandhoney/pseuds/ashesandhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec came to that tiny town because while there was magic in New York, it wasn't in the water like it was out there. He opens a tattoo parlour beside a florist shop owned by Magnus Bane.</p><p>[This sort of magical realism is stolen almost directly out of Sarah Addison Allen's Garden Spells, a lovely story about sisters and family and magic that might not really be magic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Water or the Scenery

“So, are you here for the water or the scenery?” his first customer asked after he’d opened the door and flipped the open sign around. He was still hanging art samples on the walls and organizing them just so and then taking them down and reorganizing them again. Alec Lightwood looked up from a cascade of framed line drawings and photographs of finished works and raised his eyebrows at the girl in the doorway. He reevaluated the use of the word customer. Some people were tattoo people and she didn’t strike him as the type.

“Water,” he said after thinking it over. He would get used to this code over the next few months in the strange small town. It was a town which truly had very few springs but there were other currents that ran through it and pulled people like him in.

“Ah,” she said and she came over to pick up a portrait that lay at his feet and turn it right side up. A fox sketched out in watercolours on the shoulder of a girl with hair the colour of fire. He was proud of it. Tattoo ink did not lend itself well to the splashes of colour but she had wanted freedom and hope but had refused a bird. He hoped that the little touch of clever that foxes brought was serving her well. That girl had been a friend before he’d left New York. This girl had white blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her hair was twisted back in a pony tail and she was probably just a little bit older than him. She had a flower tucked into the strands over her ear. A white carnation.

“And yourself?” he asked.

“Water, definitely the water,” she said with a smile.

Then she picked the flower out of her hair and picked through his mess of frames to tuck it behind his ear. He was tall and dark and usually the tangle of tattoos up and down his own arms kept people from getting to friendly. She was unfazed. He wondered if it was true that if you lived in a place like this that you could live forever. Maybe she was hundreds of years old. He wanted to ask her what her gift was but it seemed rude and personal.

“Thank you?” he said more question than real expression of thanks.

“Magnus told me that I’d find someone who needs it. Most people pick up flowers for themselves but I always give them away. He’s started giving me ones for other people. A new town, a new business venture, seems like you could use some luck,” she said.

“Magnus?” he asked itching to take the flower down.

“Magnus is the florist, he’s got the place next door,” she said, “I’m Catarina, I work down at the clinic. You’ll get to know everyone soon enough. The couple in the bookshop give excellent recommendations and though the market isn’t anything special, they’ve got this baker who makes perfect scones.”

“Thank you,” he said with a little bit more force in the words. He wasn’t really talking to Catarina, he was talking to the town, a thank you to it for existing. People didn’t talk about it in the city. Oh, they knew, there were whispers but no one ever admitted it outright even as they came to him with requests for tattoos that brought strength or hope or luck in love. Here the baker and the bookshop owner and the florist threw magic around like it was as easy as breathing.

“Welcome home,” she said with a wink and then she disappeared out the door.

Magnus frowned at the candy shop that was no longer a candy shop and had a new sign claiming something about runes and tattoos. Cat had told him she’d bring him back a report and the report had been simply, “Water” and “Wait until you see him.” Magnus had been in and out of town for nearly 200 years. It was a place that had felt like home after years of wandering and feeling like he’d never find one. It was boring but somehow never dull. He glanced at the windows but the angle of the sun showed him only a reflection of the street. He finished dropping a bundle of pink roses into one of the display bins and sorted through them and pulled out a rosebud and smiled at it.

“New love,” he whispered to it and then held it out to the person walking by who took it. Magnus glanced over at him and was surprised to find a stranger. The impulse to hand out flowers came irregularly but it was almost always right. Sometimes it happened immediately like that and other times he carried a flower around all day, twirling the stem of white tulip between his fingers until the person in need of forgiveness walked by.

A very tall stranger with very blue eyes. Magnus flashed him a smile and it wasn’t nearly as pure or as sweet as rosebuds were meant to be. Catarina’s assessment made sense. He wasn’t expecting the way his eyebrows drew in or his lips pursed in confusion as he took the flower in long fingers. He already had Catarina’s white carnation behind his ear. A piece of Magnus’s mind was already planning out the full bouquet: carnations for luck and rosebuds for new love and the white star of Bethlehem blooms for hope and just a few daisies for that innocent surprise. The rest of his attention was on the person in front of him.

“How do you stay in business if you just give flowers away?” his visitor asked looking flustered. He wore a pair of jeans tight enough that Magnus had to drag his eyes back up and a black t-shirt that showed off a full sleeve of tattoos from the hem to his wrist. Magnus dragged his eyes away from those too. He met his eyes

“I do alright,” Magnus said with a shrug, “Do you think tattoos will fly in a town like this?”

“Maybe not but I needed out of New York,” he said with a shrug.

“A city boy are you?” Magnus said.

“Raised there,” he said.

“It’s quieter here,” Magnus said.

The man looked him over and Magnus had the strange feeling of regretting his outfit. He played a role. He dressed the part. He wore a plaid button down rolled to his elbows, a green apron, a pair of jeans which were artfully filthy rather than truly dirt streaked. He looked like a country bumpkin, a hot country bumpkin but still it was an outfit for tourists not alarmingly attractive tattoo artists from New York. His hair looked good and he wore enough eye liner to make the tourists look at him funny but he still wished he’d thought to wear something with a bit more flair. He had a suit somewhere that glinted when the light hit it right and had been tailored fantastically well but no, today he wore artfully filthy jeans.

“You’ve got glitter in your hair,” the tattoo artist told him.

“I do, it gives it something extra,” he said.

“Oh, right then, I thought it might have been from a … well … never mind. I should be getting back. I’ve got a shipment coming in this afternoon. It was nice to meet you,” he said flustered again.

“Magnus Bane,” Magnus said.

“Alexander. Lightwood. Alec,” he said still flustered enough to make Magnus smile at him.

“It’s nice to meet you Alexander,” he said. “Welcome to town.”

“Thanks, right, I, thanks,” Alec said and then he was stumbling his way out of the shop, narrowly missing a bucket of plant food that Magnus had thought was tucked safely out of the way. Magnus smiled after him and then turned back to his roses and adjusted them just a bit. Maybe new love was a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> This began life on Tumblr. It's my first Malec fic, aw new ships to write. 
> 
> When I need some bubblegum fluff I may expand it, both Magnus and Alec's story as well as interconnected stories about the town. I know that the baker is Sophie, the bookshop owners are Will and Tessa and Izzy will have to come up and visit from New York eventually. Possibly bringing Jace along to meet up with a local artist named Clary. 
> 
> But as of now, calling this a one shot.


End file.
